


A Helping Hand

by QueenSnailGoddess147



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arkham Asylum, Canon-Typical Violence, Doctor/Patient, Ed is a doctor at Arkham, Ed is a therapist, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kingpin Oswald, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Nygmobblepot, Nygmobblepot AU - Freeform, Oswald is framed, Riddler - Freeform, Smut, penguin - Freeform, smut at some point probably, what even is tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-05 09:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSnailGoddess147/pseuds/QueenSnailGoddess147
Summary: After being framed for the murder of Tom Dougherty, and thus betrayed by nearly most, if not all, of the people working under him, Penguin confesses to the murder and is sent to Arkham Asylum. Though he has a plan to escape, it might take some time. While he’s there, he’s forced to go to therapy, where he meets a quirky and almost mysterious doctor named Edward Nygma.Not only is Ed an attractive man, but he also intrigues Oswald, and puts him off all at the same time. There’s something off about the man, and Oswald only wants to dig deeper to uncover all of the man’s dirtiest and deepest secrets.(This description doesn't even do this fic justice, I just couldn't think of a way to describe it SIGH)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh!! It's been so long since I've written a proper fic, but I just recently finished Gotham, and I thought I'd give it my best shot at writing something for my favorite ship currently. 
> 
> Please excuse any spelling errors you find, I tried my best with rereading and correcting. But I do hope that you enjoy this fanfic! I'll try my best to post semi-regular updates. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Almost the entire city of Gotham was searching for him. With a reward of five hundred thousand dollars on his head, and a lack of people to defend him, the Penguin was well and truly alone in the world. He had no one to turn to, at least no one he could currently trust not to stab him in the back. Even his lackeys had proven to be not trustworthy, as it was partly their faults that Butch had even gotten the upper hand in the first place… No- it was their faults. Penguin could only assume the worst. If not all, then most of his following had turned on him and was instead now loyal to Butch. How the imbecile had done it, Oswald didn’t know. 

Butch had betrayed him; framing him almost perfectly for the GCPD to piece together all of the pieces Butch had set up, and charge him somehow with the murder of a police officer, Tom Dougherty. Oswald nearly laughed at the thought of it- some lowly officer, someone he had never even heard of before. Obviously the man had been unimportant in life, and was perhaps even more unimportant in death. Surely the GCPD wasn’t so stupid that they’d believe that he’d do something like this, and get caught so easily, if that. 

Oswald huffed, pulling his long coat tighter around his frame and slowly limped down the sidewalk, a top hat perch on his head. It was an attempt to hide his identity, a poor one at that. If anything, the hat seemed to catch more attention then deflect it away from him. He glared at passerbyers who stared at him with awe, each one too frightened of him to actually attempt to collect the reward on him. 

He ignored the odd looks and paced himself faster. He still couldn’t believe this was his life now, having been hiding and running from the GCPD for the past couple of weeks. But he was done now, so tired of avoiding the ever present GCPD and the apparently loyal, law abiding citizens of Gotham. As he neared the police station, he turned, making his way a bit down the alleyway next to the building, before stopping and leaning his back against the cool cement wall. It took the pressure off of his bad leg only a tiny bit, but he sighed with contentment anyways. Any bit of relief was welcomed, of course. 

Oswald pulled out his phone, only briefly searching his contacts before he came across the desired one. He really would rather not call ‘him’, but he felt as though he was left without any other option. With a heavy sigh, he pressed call with a gloved finger. 

“Zsasz.” He hissed urgently the moment the line stopped ringing, wasting no time. He was sure the cowardly citizens of Gotham had gone ahead to alert the GCPD of his sudden appearance. It had, after all, been weeks since anyone had seen him outside on the streets. Not to mention the reward that hung over his head only added extra incentive for the citizens. 

Zsasz wasted no time to speak into the receiver, his voice monotone, while his answer was quick and to the point. “I don’t work for you.” He replied matter-of-factly.

Oswald let out an irritated chuckle. “But you could.” He said, not missing a beat to continue. He didn’t have time to waste, this was urgent. “I understand that you’re loyal to the Falcone’s, but I think my case will perhaps be of interest to you.” He said as casually as he could, hoping with all of his being that the little homicidal maniac would take interest. Just once, take the bait. He just needed this once to be saved. 

Time seemed to tick by slower as Oswald listened to the light breathing of Zsasz over the phone. For a few brief seconds, he thought the other man was about to hang up, but then he spoke. “I’m interested.” He stated, humming softly as he seemed to consider something. “What kind of danger are you in?” 

Oswald scoffed, rolling his eyes despite the fact that the other man couldn’t see him. “You’re not interested in that. You’re interested in how many people you get to kill and how much chaos you get to cause. Don’t waste my time, Zsasz. I don’t have long.” 

“Got it!” Zsasz replied back instantaneously, sounding far too enthusiastic for a grown man who killed people for a living. 

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes again. “I’m sure that you’ve seen the warrants for my arrest.” Oswald cleared his throat. “Well, by tonight I’ll most likely be on my way to Arkham.” 

“They’re not looking to send you there, Pengy.” Zsasz piped up. The man seemed to have no sense of when to stop adding his own comments to the conversation. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Oswald guessed that it was the latter. 

Despite himself, Oswald hissed into the phone angrily, “Don’t call me that.” He snapped, venom on his tongue. He glanced around nervously, but there was no one in the alleyway to be watching him. “Zsasz,” He said, urgency in his tone this time. “In a few minutes I’ll be into the Gotham City Police Department and surrendering myself to the law. I’ll surely go to court right away, I’ve already spoken with a lawyer- I’m pleading insanity. I’m going to Arkham, but I don’t want to be serving full time.” 

Zsasz hummed a bit as he considered, though Oswald didn’t know what the hell the man could be taking so long to think about at a time like this. “You want me to bust you out?” He asked, as if it hadn’t been obvious.

“Yes!” Oswald hissed quietly, gripping the phone tighter in his hand, anger festering and swelling deep within his chest. But he wasn’t going to yell- at least that’s what he continually tried to tell himself. “I’ll pay you any amount, you can kill as many people as you want in Arkham, just get me out in a months time.” 

“You want me to wait a month to bust you out, Pengy?” He asked, and with that damned nickname again. 

He bit back a remark, holding his tongue and instead sighed heavily. At this point, he felt as though Zsasz was toying with him to get a reaction. And perhaps he was. “Yes. One month, release me from Arkham. Do we have a deal?” He questioned.

Zsasz took a few seconds before replying. “Sure.” He answered simply. “After I speak with the Boss, of course.”

Oswald couldn’t even fathom the anger he was feeling. He was going to die in Arkham, and it was all because one man couldn’t go behind his boss for once in his life. He sighed. “Fine.” He spit, putting as much ferocity into the word as he could, but he doubted Zsasz even cared. “One month.” He warned. 

“Good luck, Penguin.” The other man said before hanging up the phone, leaving Oswald to stand there, listening to the silence. 

When he heard the dial tone, he clicked the phone shut and slide it slowly back into his coat pocket, and pushed himself gently off of the wall. He began making his way towards the front of the building, pausing to take a deep breath in front of the two large doors before he pushed them open. A few officers noticed him after he slid his hat off of the top of his head, holding it between both of his hands and took a few staggering steps inside the building, towards the cluttered desks. 

Oswald was faced with nearly two dozen guns in his face. He flinched slightly, his hands clenching before he dropped his top hat, watching it fall gently to the floor as he slowly raised both hands. 

“I surrender.” He said, forcing a half smirk to take place on his lips, despite the anxiety of being faced with almost two dozen guns pointed at him. It wasn’t a new thing, it just wasn’t something a person ever got completely comfortable with. 

Jim Gordon’s voice piped up from the back of the precinct, overpowering all other voices and causing the room to become almost silent. “You what?” He asked, his gun half raised, but it wasn’t even completely necessary with all of the other cops in the room. 

Oswald flashed the blonde man a smirk. “I heard there was reward for my arrest. Anyone who brought me in?” He questioned. “I believe it was five hundred thousand dollars.” He said thoughtfully, before continuing to speak, giving a short chuckle. “Well here I am, Jim! Where’s my reward?” 

Jim paused, showing no reaction besides a gloomy frown. The man slowly began to move, and before he knew it, Oswald had his hands behind his back and was being cuffed. “You have the right to remain silent,” Jim said, quietly. “Anything you do or say, can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney...” His words trailed off as Oswald stared around at the empty faces in the precinct. 

“Jim.” He said, barely above a whisper, after a few seconds. “You know I didn’t kill him.” 

The man lightly shoved him, and Oswald started walking, Jim’s hand firmly pressed in the middle of his back to guide him. Instead of being brought to a holding cell, he was guided to the large office at the top of the stairs, directly in the middle of the police station. Oswald stood awkwardly as Jim shut the door and silently took his time to close the blinds. When he finally turned towards Oswald, the only light in the room came from the small lamp on the large wooden desk in the middle of the room. 

“Sit.” Jim said as he moved to lean himself against the desk, looking towards Oswald expectantly.

Oswald hesitated before he hobbled slightly and dropped down to sit in one of the leather chairs, giving a soft sigh of relief. 

“What’s your play here, Penguin?” Jim asked, a cautious look in his eyes as he looked to Oswald, seeming to try to analyze him, figure out his motives for turning himself in. 

“My play?” He asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. “My play is to surrender, Detective Gordon. I stated that quite clearly.” 

Jim frowned. “Yeah, but you’ve always got some trick up your sleeve.” He moved to cross his arms, his eyes meeting Oswald’s own eyes. “You killed a man, Oswald. A cop. There’s no way out of it this time.” 

Oswald frowned. “I didn’t kill Office Dougherty, Jim.” He stated, leaning forwards in his seat, trying to put on his best ‘believe-me’ face, but Jim seemed unphased. Cops were never happy about other cops dying, especially when they’re murdered. “You can’t seriously believe that I had anything to do with a police officer getting killed. You can’t think I’m that dumb.” 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Jim asked as he raised an eyebrow. He didn’t give Oswald any time to answer him. “Your fingerprints were on the knife that killed him, Oswald. Butch Gilzean also confessed that he saw you do it… Explain it to me, then. If it wasn’t you.” 

Oswald scoffed, leaning back in his seat and frowned. “You wouldn’t believe me.” He remarked, directing his eyes away from Jim’s and instead opted to stare at a stack of papers that sat on the edge of the desk. The paper’s were way less intimidating than Jim’s ever present, accusing stare. 

“Oswald.” Jim said after a couple of moments, attempting to urge him into speaking. 

Oswald’s eyes snapped to meet Jim’s once again, a fire seeming to well in him as he quickly leaned forwards in his seat, though the cuffs behind his back stopped him from getting any closer, due to the uncomfortable strain of them. “I did ‘not’ kill that man, Jim!” He snapped, frustrated, and tired, but he knew no matter what he said, Jim would never believe him. And even if he did, his prints were on the weapon, and he was a known criminal, a crime lord even. It was simple; if the evidence pointed to a criminal, then they did it. Even if truly, and quite honestly, Oswald did not kill Tom Dougherty. 

Jim frowned, pushing himself off of the desk and turned around. He grabbed a clear evidence bag from the desk before he turned his back towards the windows again, holding the bag inches from Oswald’s pale face. “Then explain why you’re prints are on this!” He snapped back, with the same fire and heat that Oswald gave.

Oswald seemed to deflate as he peered inside the bag, his eyes fixated on a small, blood covered knife inside. “I-... I didn’t-” He stopped himself, taking a few seconds to weigh his options. “... I want my lawyer.” He finally said, slowly and carefully leaning himself back in the chair until his back was nearly pressed against the chair completely, and his wrists ached from the uncomfortable situation with the cuffs. 

Jim gave a heavy sigh, all anger seeming to drain from him, and instead he looked rather tired. “Get up.” He ordered, and Oswald begrudgingly complied. He was lead out of the room, this time with Jim’s hand on his shoulder. As the detective lead him back to the interrogation room, he felt all of the eyes of every police officer in the station trained on him. After the door was shut behind him, and he was instead cuffed to a table with his hands in front of him, he allowed himself to at least attempt to relax. 

He let out a large sigh, followed by him placing his forehead onto the cold, metal table. Oswald allowed his shoulders to slump, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to relax, and somehow found himself drifting off into a dreamless slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Insanity, huh.” A familiar voice suddenly said behind him, and Oswald quickly snapped around, the Officer at his side not bothering to stop him. He was met with Jim Gordon, the man looking unhappy, per usual. 
> 
> Oswald cleared his throat and steadied himself, focusing most of his weigh on his good leg. “Yes, it was the only option that made sense.” He stated, trying his best to seem indifferent, though it didn’t really matter at this point, did it? He was going to Arkham, and there was a chance that his escape wouldn’t even pan out. There was a chance Zsasz wasn’t really go to rescue him, and that he’d be stuck there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha! Chapter two! I'm really enjoying writing this fic so far, and I'm hoping it's as enjoyable to read! And don't worry, next chapter Os will finally meet Ed. That's where the real fun begins

“Cobblepot!” Came an abrupt voice, followed by a loud noise, snapping Oswald out of whatever dream-like state he had found himself in. He blinked a few times before he turned his attention back to the judge. 

“My apologies.” He said quickly and gave a short shake of his head, trying to clear it. He glanced down at his once again cuffed hands that rested in his lap. He frowned at the absurdly dirty clothes that he had been given while he was held at the police station. After a few nights of awaiting trial, Jim had brought them to him. As kind as the gesture was, Oswald now thinks he would have preferred to stay in his own clothes. 

“How do you plead?” He was asked, and he wasn’t even completely sure who asked it at this point. He just wanted this all to be over with. 

Oswald frowned as he looked up and glanced around the room. On one side of the courtroom was nearly the entirety of the GCPD force, and the other side- no one. No one there to defend him, to even offer him any support. No one cared for him, _not a soul _. “I plead insanity.” He said as loud as his tired body would allow.__

__The courtroom chattered amongst themselves, and from what he could tell, no one was happy with the way he decided to plead his case. They had probably been hoping for him to go to Blackgate for the rest of his life, rot in a cell, maybe get killed by another inmate or even a guard._ _

__“Mr. Cobblepot, you surely know what that means, don’t you?” The Judge asked, seeming doubtful with Oswald’s decision. “You’ll be going to-”_ _

__Oswald cut him off. “Arkham.” He said, raising an eyebrow. “I need help, I’m _sick _.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave an innocent look, as innocent as he could manage. “I did murder a man in cold blood, after all.” He cracked a smirk, his eyes going wide as he attempted to give a crazy look, to play the part of _insanity _. “Ha! A man I didn’t even know, to add to it! How strange, isn’t it? One moment I was just walking down the street, and the next I was twisting my knife into a man’s gut and there was blood everywhere!” He laughed maniacally, but was soon interrupted by the Judge slamming his gavel down onto the table in front of him._____ _

______The entire courtroom became quiet, and Oswald sat back into his seat, his hands twitching nervously in his lap._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oswald Cobblepot,” The Judge began, looking down to the papers on his desk as he seemed to contemplate what his sentence should be. “I sentence you to _at least _ten years of treatment at Arkham, and a requirement of therapy at least once a week. You may not be released until your ten year sentence is up, or you are cleared for a bill of _complete _mental health.” He announced and slammed his gavel down once more._____ _ _ _ _ _

__________Once again, the courtroom became clouded with chatter, many officers beginning to stand from their seats, voicing their complaints. Before anything could get too out of hand, Oswald was being tugged out of his seat and lead out a door at the back of the room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He knew he should at least feel a bit relieved, but if anything, he felt even worse than before. Now it was set in stone, and what was worse, he apparently had to attend therapy. He scoffed at the thought of whatever poor sap had to deal with him. He knew he wasn’t going to be an easy patient. No, if anything, he would make his stay at Arkham interesting, mess around a bit. Perhaps play with whatever sanity the therapist had._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Oswald snapped himself out of his own thoughts, frowning to himself. Maybe he _did _need therapy if that was his thought process on how to cope with everything.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Insanity, huh.” A familiar voice suddenly said behind him, and Oswald quickly snapped around, the Officer at his side not bothering to stop him. He was met with Jim Gordon, the man looking unhappy, per usual._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Oswald cleared his throat and steadied himself, focusing most of his weigh on his good leg. “Yes, it was the only option that made sense.” He stated, trying his best to seem indifferent, though it didn’t really matter at this point, did it? He was going to Arkham, and there was a chance that his escape wouldn’t even pan out. There was a chance Zsasz wasn’t really go to rescue him, and that he’d be stuck there._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Jim huffed softly and dismissed the officer next to Oswald with a nod. The both of them watched as the stranger disappeared before they returned to their conversation. “You may be crazy, maybe even sadistic- but you’re not _Arkham _worthy brand of crazy, Oswald.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Oswald shrugged his shoulders. “Are you so sure about that, Jim?” He asked, smirking slightly. “You said it yourself, I killed a man.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“And you said you _didn’t _kill him.” Jim quickly retorted, crossing his arms stubbornly.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“The evidence points to otherwise, like you had said.” He replied, frowning at Jim’s sudden stubbornness on the topic. Less than a week ago, Jim had been absolutely sure Oswald was guilty, and now what? Now he was doubting that? Oswald nearly scoffed at the idea of it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Jim shook his head. “Don’t play games. You said you didn’t kill him.” He stated, pausing for a moment. “Are you still sticking to that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Oswald sighed. “Does it matter?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Yes.” Jim replied instantly. “Our forensic guy found a half-print on the knife, one that doesn’t belong to you. And when we ran it through AFIS, nothing turned up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“So, let me get this straight.” Oswald began, taking a deep breath to calm himself. It didn’t work. “Now, after I go to court, plead insanity, and am sentenced to _ten years _at Arkham- _now _you decide you want to believe me?” He asked, trying his best to contain his temper, but it was hard when Jim was acting so-... _stupid _._______ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Yes-” The other man sighed and shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe.” He paused, and Oswald could almost feel the tension in the air. He just wanted this nightmare to end already, to go home, and drink a hot cup of tea. Or maybe something a bit stronger than just tea. “I honestly don’t think you’d be dumb enough to murder a cop, and then not only leave the murder weapon at the scene, but also leave prints behind.” Jim shrugged his shoulders softly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Oswald frowned at him. He had needed Jim to believe him before, when it had mattered, when he still could have had a chance to fight. He had just needed one person to believe him, to doubt that he could have murdered a cop, but no. Here he was, cuffed, and about to be sent away to Arkham._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________He laughed bitterly, an attempt to hide his emotions, but his hands shook with anger. “Forget about it, _friend _.” He said, looking away to stare at a stain on the carpet. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Oswald-” Jim began, but stopped himself. The two stood in silence for several moments before Jim’s walkie talkie began talking at his side, and he grabbed it from his belt. He turned away from Oswald to speak into it quietly for a few moments before turning back around. “... The car’s here to take you to Arkham.” He announced, and Oswald gave a short nod._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“It’s been a good run, Jim.” He said and held up both his hands, but only extended one, offering his hand to Jim for the other to shake it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Hesitantly, the other man reached forwards and shook his hand. “This isn’t the end, Oswald.” He said with a frown, but by the look on his face, he didn’t seem to believe his own words._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Sure.” He said, shaking Jim’s hand firmly before he let it go and turned away, facing the exit door at the end of the hall. When Jim made no move, Oswald glanced over his shoulder. “On with it, Jim. Spare me your sympathies. Let’s go.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Jim moved then, placing a firm and heavy hand on Oswald’s shoulder and lead him down the hallway before they finally made it out of the building. The silence between them was almost comfortable. Oswald thought back to a different time in his life, one where he was merely escaping Fish Mooney’s wrath, and he still had hope of Jim Gordon becoming some type of friend to him. Now, it all seemed ridiculous. Especially the part about his silly hope of becoming a _friend _to Jim.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Once Oswald was seated in the back of the truck, a cop seated next to him on each side, he gave Jim one last smile. “So long, friend.” He said, and waved one hand once._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Jim only frowned at him, not bothering to reply as he shut both of the truck doors firmly, leaving Oswald in the truck. Despite being surrounded on almost all sides, he felt completely, and utterly _alone _. Despite how odd it was, Jim had offered some sort of sense of relief. A feeling of safety, that perhaps things would be alright, that he wouldn’t die, or actually lose his sanity in Arkham. That was gone now, replaced with the fear of the unknown as he sank back into the cold metal bench in the truck. He shut his eyes tightly, suppressing all arising emotions and instead focused on counting behind his eyelids, distracting himself.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
